


148. "Why do you only kiss me when I'm sleeping?"

by aleclightwoodisbetterthanyou (bowtiewontlie)



Series: Writer's Block Drabble Challenge [5]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Fluff, Getting Together, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 15:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7468356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bowtiewontlie/pseuds/aleclightwoodisbetterthanyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clary has a habit of falling asleep at her desk, but Isabelle doesn't mind helping her into bed.</p><p>Written for @gayclaryfray on the Tumblr.</p><p>Check out the <a href="http://aleclightwoodisbetterthanyou.tumblr.com/wbdcmasterpost">Masterpost</a> on my Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	148. "Why do you only kiss me when I'm sleeping?"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [driedflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/driedflowers/gifts).



Isabelle pushed her roommate’s door open quietly, a small smile playing at her lips as she noticed the redhead had fallen asleep on her desk again. It had been a fairly common occurrence in the last few months since they’d moved in together. School was draining, and Clary often spent her evenings working on sketches and illustrations for her classes, working until she was too exhausted to even move the few feet necessary to crawl into bed.

The first time it had happened, Isabelle had just gotten home from a late-night cram session for her Microbiology class and noticed that Clary’s light was still on. She’d walked in, expecting to find her best friend working diligently, but had instead found her with her cheek pressed against the paper, hair falling across her face, charcoal pencil hanging limply in her hand. 

The sight had caused Isabelle’s heart to swell and she smiled as she walked over, shaking the other girl gently to wake her up. “Clary,” she had said, “Clary, hun, you gotta get up and go to bed.” 

Instead of sleepily getting up and crawling into bed, as Isabelle expected, Clary woke up fighting. Her head jerked up and her arms swung toward the offending person. Isabelle barely dodged the charcoal pencil as it flew at her head. “Clary,” she said again, calmly, putting her hands up in surrender. “Clary, it’s me, Isabelle.” Clary’s eyes finally locked on Isabelle and she paused, drooping forward as the tension eased from her body.

It wasn’t too difficult for Isabelle to get her into bed, then, and the next morning Clary had explained to her that her first instinct upon being woken up had always been to lash out. She didn’t really know why, but she explained that her mom had discovered that she was fairly pliable in her sleep, as long as she didn’t fully wake up. 

Since that night, Isabelle had learned the best way to get Clary up without actually waking her up and move her into bet. It had become a sort of routine for them. Every night before Isabelle went to bed, she went to check on Clary. In the beginning, she found her sleeping on her desk only once or twice a week, but as it crept closer to Finals, it was becoming more common.

It had also become one of the best parts of Isabelle’s week. Helping Clary into bed was the only time she could really look at the other girl without fearing that she would find out her secret. She could hold Clary in her arms and imagine that maybe, just maybe, she could have this for real someday.

In the beginning she had been cautious, keeping her stares to a minimum and her touches purely perfunctory. But lately she had grown more confident. Clary either didn’t remember anything about these moments they shared, or she didn’t care enough to say anything. So Isabelle grew bold.

She let herself push Clary’s hair back from her face, allowed herself to feel the taught muscles of her back and side as she pulled Clary into her arms and carried her across the floor. In the last couple weeks she even grew bold enough to press a soft kiss to her forehead or cheek after tucking the covers around her sleeping friend, gazing fondly for a few seconds before turning out the light and going back to her own room.

Tonight she reveled in all of these things. Tomorrow was the last day of Finals before Christmas break and Clary would have no reason to fall asleep on her desk anymore, so Isabelle took her time. She took the pencil from Clary’s hand as gently as possible, laying it on the desk next to her sketchbook. She grabbed the other girl’s arm and lifted it over her shoulders, sliding her arms under her back and knees to lift her off the chair. It was only a few steps across the room to the bed, and Isabelle laid her down gently, pulling the covers up to her friend’s chest and moving her arms so they were on top of the covers. Clary curled up a bit as she settled into the mattress, turning slightly onto her side. Isabelle pushed the hair out of her face and trailed a hand down her arm, leaning in to kiss her lightly on the cheek.

As she was pulling back, she froze, feeling Clary’s hand close around her wrist. Her heart started pounding in her chest and her eyes went wide, searching Clary’s face for any sign that she was awake. Her eyes were still closed, but there was a small smile on her lips.

Clary’s whisper was a shout in the silent room. “Why do you only kiss me when I’m sleeping?” she asked.

Isabelle stood up as quickly as she could, hoping to run away from the conversation, but Clary’s grip on her wrist kept her in place. “I’m so sorry, Clary,” she said desperately. “Please don’t hate me. It’ll never happen again, I promise.”

Clary’s eyes opened then and met her own for a brief flash before Isabelle looked away, ashamed. Clary tugged on her arm, pulling her down slightly so she could put both hands on Isabelle’s face, looking her straight in the eyes. “I could never hate you,” she said plainly and then leaned up to press their lips together softly.

Isabelle’s brain stuttered to a stop. The world froze in place and she couldn’t feel anything but those soft lips on her own. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

When Clary pulled back, Isabelle’s mouth dropped open. “Clary, I—you don’t—how did—“

“Hey, it’s okay,” Clary said softly, cutting off her incoherent stuttering. “We can talk about it in the morning. But tonight,” she said, and scooted herself toward the middle of the bed, “stay with me?”

Isabelle felt like she had been waiting for that invitation for months. She crawled into the bed and turned out the lamp before turning to face Clary in the dark. Clary’s arms reached out and pulled Isabelle closer, kissing her again softly and guiding her arms around the redhead’s waist. 

She pulled back and placed her head on the pillow, inches from Isabelle’s face. “Goodnight, Isabelle,” she said softly, and her breathing began to even out.

“Goodnight, Clary,” Isabelle managed to whisper but she didn’t think she would be sleeping anytime soon.


End file.
